“C.AR.B.O.N”

Yeah, it’s a poem. It was originally written for someone — and I sent it to them, if you were wondering — but I liked it enough to put it up here. I will continue the pathetic story of who it is for later on in this post:

My cupid;
he doth sit upon my pedal,
gasping with my happiness
and flying up with me
in delight.
My cupid is calm,
he is wise,
— though exciting —
and I lust after those words of his
deeper than just
any ole’ love
could go.

Those words
that flow as honey might
from thy lips, sweet
delicate supples that I caress with mine.
Cupid’s wordplay
is a wonderful mix
of accented sarcasm,
and stylish teasing.
Beautiful be
the mind of him,
which thinks so eloquently,
merges with mine
on this peaceful pedal of twine.

In life
we are seperate,
kindred hearts yearning
from thousands of miles
through open air.
My cupid
reaches out to me,
to grasp my hand in his
— skin so warm
and flies me to his heaven.
No clock binds us
then,
and no calling will drag us
from peace.
We will be destined
together,
pasting our souls,
our hearts and bodies
into one being.

Right…So, this is specifically about a guy I met on omgpop. He goes by “C.AR.B.O.N”. Please don’t look him up. No, I don’t want to have his children, or jump his bones — though he is a poet, and that is tempting. He is a 16 (almost 17)-year old guy named Abel, he’s a poet, and he can write some truly amazing stuff.  He is so good at wordplay; to those of you who don’t know my definition of wordplay, it is the intellectual passing of insults/compliments/subtleties, etc between two partially sarcastic, ironic peoples. He and I fit the description, and I find him extremely amusing. He treats me as a gentleman might, which is something I respect infinitely. Too many males in our society have forgotten how to be gentlemen. So many of my own friends, of the male persuasion, have forgotten how to let a lady go first in front of you, or hold the door for her, or stand up at the eating table when a lady joins you. So what if it’s cliche and traditional: it’s flattering. It’s just another way a man can get a womans heart-a-skittering (I make up my own adjectives), so why not?

I like this poem. The whole “cupid” thing isn’t of any love significance; not at all. In fact, it is merely a term of endearment I use for Abel when I talk to him. The first three lines of poetry in sent me in one of our chats, he referred to a cupid (or the Cupid, whatever); so now I call him one. The C.AR.B.O.N thing is not an acronym, and doesn’t have any significance, either. It’s just what he’s called. Kind of like me: kapuwolves. It’s a random assortment of two things I love:

kapu – a wolf in Jean Craighead George’s novel “Julie’s Wolf Pack”

&

wolves – my very favorite animal.

Simple, and I’m known for it, so I can’t very well change it. If you have an omgpop account, look me up! 🙂 I have 61 friends there already (only one of which I know in everyday life), and we have alot of fun. Kaleb Nation is my friend, and I’ve played HoverCart matches with him — which is totally surreal, considering how famous he is. It’s like playing Checkers with a celebrity. x__x
🙂

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{You are invited…}

I totally feel like a girl now —–which I guess is a good thing, considering I am one —–; I have my nails painted red, my dress all hemmed and ready to wear, my hair layered and straightened, my shoes picked out, and my eyebrows waxed. All of this for my party tomorrow night, my black&white semi-formal birthday party that I’ve wanted to have since I was eight.

It really is going to be beautiful, weather permitting. All you wordpress readers will hear a very sad tale if it does not permit. But I’m going to think positive. Please, oh please, rain, hold out for two and a half hours Friday Night, August 14th.

Entertainment was the hardest thing I had to think up, but my friends really make their own entertainment. We amuse ourselves, I guess. Plus, I have Guitar Hero III that I’m going to turn on, and I’ll have a bonfire out in the backyard — not to mention food, music, and drinks. (Strictly non-alcoholic). So we should be good. I’m so afraid that people will show up and go “err…so this is it, huh?” 🙂

My brother is going to be there, and he is witty and a tad charming (at least with my female friends), as will be my sister Mystie, her husband, and my nephew. That is the only family, besides the parentals, allowed. Too many dysfunctions, disorders, and attitudes flying around this house otherwise. I love them, but my family will never be invited to another party where they might integrate with my friends. It just isn’t a good idea.

The back porch rails will be wrapped with gold linen, with a string of small lights on top of that. The back pato tables will have their umbrellas removed and put in storage, and will be covered with a delicate black tablecloth, and red plates, cups, napkins, and forks. The other table will just be one to sit at. I’ll have the drinks set up inside, the food outside, and the music blaring from my back porch’s speaker. I picked 40 songs (on two mix CDs) that I think everyone will agree on. We aren’t the pickiest crew, my friends and I, and alot of them are songs you can either sing, dance, or laugh at, so WE’RE GOOD. :)!

I am so excited/nervous for this, because it’ll be my first time playing host to this many people. Seventeen have RSVP’d, and I’m expecting at least thirteen of them to show up. It doesn’t sound like much in writing, but in person…that is alot of people counting on you to show them a good time. That sounded weird..but oh well.

So wish me and my party-go’ers luck! I really want it to be positive, with no redneck, dysfunctional fights, problems, or weather conditions. God willing.

“I Don’t Belong Here”

Very self-explanatory.

I don’t belong here.
Maybe on some mountaintop,
Maybe in the cool, green shade,
Maybe where the sand never stops,
but I don’t belong here.

I don’t belong here.
Maybe at a pub in Belguim,
Maybe near a cricket’s chirp,
Maybe in some Mayan kingdom,
but I don’t belong here.

I don’t belong here.
Maybe far from cursing shouts,
Maybe with hot cooked meals,
Maybe near fresh bamboo sprouts,
but I don’t belong here.

No, definitely not here.